Thursday, March 1, 2012

A Principle of Division

table salt—
locking in
another flood in wait

cupboard’s dusty—
an extension
of what we keep
for sustenance
in our jars of clay—
another early wake
end. point. turn.

a new arithmetic has been observed—it crushes on the physical geometry we just have to learn—an ancillary construction’s hiding space—a distraction, a disgrace—a fake stir of optimism—for a scene based entirely upon pessimistic sets of codes—when discovery disrupts the guise we had formed, it disassembles all the equations we’ve ever known—the only beauty we’ve ever worn—deconstructing our place of home.

a nauseous  epidemic.
anxiety laden nerves. 
paranoid—and rightly so—
an underworld erected—from the trust and freedom love’s allotted us.

From the many we make few—the espionage grows and grows until it tires too—loneliness abounds, even when good hearts surround and the graphed parabolas never fail; they never fall—

self placed Landmines erupt-explode—triggered by the auxiliary education we so foolishly thought we would need to know—because of form, logic lost—a probability gambled upon, one too which the odds we thought we could beat—yet blinded by the arcs and shape—we deemed it a chance we had to take—opportunities like this are rare—amnesia of all we had simply disappears—all that was gets strained then lost— the superficial signs that led us astray—the most negative of causalities—where no one wins and the opportunity to start again—well, that die had been long since tossed—

alone again—first time since, what’s it been? Twenty-five years or so—empty house, empty home—friends grew busy, friends don’t answer their phones—all for what, all for what? Twenty-four-thirty-six-twenty-four—just numbers, random-strange—just memories—what an accomplishment—even if I chose to speak the lore—just look at me, look at me—even I wouldn’t believe a single word—strike that—I’d believe the part about the guy that’s lost it all.


  1. One thing I would never ever do, once you lose the trust to some stupid moment of lust, you are screwed and deserve whatever you get. Don't want to be with the person, leave, cheaters should be shot in the foot, at least a they get their due, as no one trusts them and they end up alone, usually. While everyone else moves along. Now you've got me ranting, so I will stop before someone calls a cop..haha

    1. Yeah, definitely something I don't condone either, yeah, you'd hope they get their due. call the cops, that just got me thinking of a fun rant for Orlin to write, probably b/c of your april fool's day rhyme, but you should have orlin calling in pranks to the police or whoever that he's stuck in a tree, and then when they get there he's either up there playing impossible to get or watching from somewhere else laughing away. Probably a good trick to play on drazin.

    2. LOL I will have to keep that one in mind for my little rhyming behind

  2. Intrigued by the interspersion of verse and prose; not a device I've used much but long wanted to give more space to. You work it well here Fred.

  3. packed much into this...deep emotions, reflections...def. pulling on some of the heart strings and i'm not starting to quote my fav lines to keep your comment box clean...smiles

  4. the line that struck me here was self placed land mines....we get pretty good at that....perhaps it is our belief that we are smarter than that...but we get caught...its a sad life when our sins catch up to us...